


breakfast

by Prim_the_Amazing



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life, fic about my dnd party, so that exactly three other ppl can enjoy it, the height of self indulgence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23707552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prim_the_Amazing/pseuds/Prim_the_Amazing
Summary: They’re eating breakfast, for a certain definition of breakfast. Sasha had made the executive decision to order the cheapest option that the inn they’re staying at had, in the name of protecting their (her) money from unnecessary purchases. What has been set before them can only arguably be called food, but she would passionately argue to call it so, if only to stand by her earlier choice that she definitely doesn’t regret, not at all, not even a little bit. And she’s very good at arguing, so. It's food.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	breakfast

They’re eating breakfast, for a certain definition of breakfast. Sasha had made the executive decision to order the cheapest option that the inn they’re staying at had, in the name of protecting their (her) money from unnecessary purchases. What has been set before them can only arguably be called food, but she would passionately argue to call it so, if only to stand by her earlier choice that she definitely doesn’t regret, not at all, not even a little bit. And she’s very good at arguing, so. It's food. 

She almost wishes that someone _would_ try and argue, just so that she can inform them very firmly of why they’re wrong, but no one has, and it’s starting to look more and more like no one is going to. 

Ursa is eating the food with a complete lack of facial expression, as if she isn’t tasting anything untoward at all. Sasha stares at her for a long while, searching intently for the slightest wince or grimace, but she really does seem to not mind the food in the slightest. Maybe she doesn’t have taste buds? 

Tink, of course, is wolfing the food down with happy abandon. It’s almost sad, how she keeps raving about how good it is in between and during chewing. Sasha supposes that it _is_ better than the packed lunches that she’s seen her goblin family lovingly send her off with whenever they visit, to all appearances _not_ in an attempt to poison and kill her. 

Dawn is the one she’s got her money on for cracking and saying something. He’s eating his food woodenly, his face very deliberately set in a mask of neutrality that doesn’t look anywhere near as sincere as Ursa’s mask of neutrality. He keeps taking long pauses between each swallow, not moving or speaking as he takes careful measured breaths, as if he’s gathering the strength for the next mouthful. 

“Are you enjoying the meal, sunshine?” Sasha asks very sweetly, cutting Tink off mid sentence. Sometimes that’s the only way to get any conversation done around here. If she always waited for Tink’s mouth to stop moving, she’d never get any words out herself, which simply isn’t acceptable. 

Dawn swallows his mouthful roughly. His hands are clutching at his utensils very, very tightly. “Yes,” he grits out. 

She smiles brightly. “Oh, good. I was afraid that getting the cheapest possible option might impact the quality, but clearly it hasn’t! Right, girls? Don’t you agree?” 

Tink agrees eagerly. She might not be able to discern the exact words she’s saying, around the half chewed mush in her mouth, making her cheeks bulge out, but she can tell by the tone, and by the fact that of _course_ Tink is agreeing with her. Sasha gives her a warm, fond, approving look, and Tink impossibly brightens another notch. 

Ursa simply nods, and continues eating. Sasha notes that she hasn’t touched her utensils even once, and is simply using her hands to eat the meal. 

The great thing about the instant agreement from Ursa and Tink is that they really mean it. It’s lovely, really. 

“Wonderful! It looks like we’re all in agreement, then! The cheapest option is absolutely one hundred percent edible and good. Which means that there’s no reason at all for us to not get it every single day, for every single meal. Right?” 

Tink and Ursa make more agreeing noises, still eating. Dawn freezes. Sasha smiles brightly, teeth bared. She looks at Dawn, not blinking her eyes. 

“Right, Dawn?” she says, instead of eating her definitely delicious and great food, which was not a mistake to order at all. 

Dawn makes himself swallow. There are tears of exertion beading at the corners of his eyes. “Yes,” he says again, ragged like he’s speaking through a terrible gut wound, a deathbed confession. 

Sasha grits and grinds her teeth around her bright, shiny smile. The taste of the food she’s already eaten is still lingering _powerfully_ in her mouth, despite the fact that it’s been minutes since her last bite. 

“Wow, really?” she asks. “It’s just that usually you’re the one hold out when I make a decision, you know? Where’s all of that contrariness gone, sunshine? The spine, the spite, the rebelliousness? It’s not like you to just lie down and let me make all of the choices with no protest.” 

Tink swallows her mouthful before she speaks, wonder of wonders. “I’m so proud of you, Dawn!” she says cheerfully, patting him on the thigh. 

Dawn smiles tightly at Tink before responding to Sasha, because his priorities are terrible. “Growing up in the church, we often didn’t have the greatest meals. Money was tight. I’m used to it.” 

Sasha also grew up often not having the greatest meals. Mom tried her best with what they had, but as he said, money was tight. 

“I have gold,” is what she says instead. It’s almost as difficult to swallow back the plaintive desperation that wants to lace all of her words as it had been to swallow the food. “I have platinum. Diamonds, even. You don’t have anything to say about that? Perhaps about me selfishly hoarding money while we all eat the same stuff they’re pouring into the pig trouts outside?” 

Dawn gives her a friendly smile, his eyes cold and determined to ruin her life. All he ever does is whine and complain and poke holes in her points, and now he’s not even good for that. “Oh, that’s _your_ money, Sasha. I wouldn’t want to make you use that for unnecessarily expensive food for us. This stuff is just fine. Tinkerella and Ursa both like it just well, and so do you and I, clearly. Unless you’re lying? Unless you made the wrong call, but you’re not willing to admit it?” 

She could, of course, say ‘oh don’t be silly Dawn, it’s _our_ money, we all worked hard to make it, which means that I should use it for the sake of the whole group and get us some nice food!’ Which would be setting a firm precedent of _her_ money being _their_ money. Which is _exactly_ what that dirty no good church boy wants, which would be walking straight into his little oh so clever trap. Down that road led only darkness and empty coin pouches. 

Instead of gracing him with a response that such nonsense doesn’t deserve, she takes a large bite out of her food while maintaining unblinking eye contact with Dawn as she does so. 

“MMMMMH!” she says, with loud and obvious delight. She makes her jaw move up and down, without opening her mouth and letting the food fall out. 

“Sho good, right?” Tink gushes. 

“MMMMHMMMM!” she agrees vigorously, still chewing. The consistency-- the texture-- it’s almost eldritch in the way it’s indescribable. 

“You’re unbelievable,” Dawn says with disgust and exasperation, clearly put out that she didn’t let herself be felled by his little ultimatum. She narrows her streaming eyes at him with furious triumph. 

She makes herself swallow. The food slides down her throat. She blacks out for a moment, and by the time she comes back to herself, it has reached her stomach. 

“Is something the matter, Dawn?” she asks. Now she sounds like she’s got a spear run through her stomach as well, rasping out her last words to her comrade on the battlefield, her head on his lap as he promises to tell her wife that she loves her. “Do you not actually like the food? You can just say so if you don’t. It’s okay, I promise I won’t judge your delicate palate too much.” 

Dawn gives her a vicious determined glare. “Oh no, Sasha, I would never say anything like that. In fact, I love it! This is the best food I’ve ever eaten! We should have this every day! We should order some to go before we leave!” 

“I agree!” she says, not at all manically. 

“Wow, so we’re all loving this? That’s great!” says Tink, in a very different tone of voice from Dawn and Sasha. 

“It sure is!” Sasha says. 

“I couldn’t agree more!” Dawn says. 

They both take big bites out of their meals. “MMMMH!” they both say, mouths full. 

Ursa squints down at the food in confusion and suspicion. “It is just fine, isn’t it?”


End file.
